


In Which Natasha Does, What Natasha Does Best

by ok_but_first_tea



Series: Superhero Friendly [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Gen, Inconvenienced Natasha is scary Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8394364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ok_but_first_tea/pseuds/ok_but_first_tea
Summary: (hint: it's being a badass)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had this scene in my head forever, and this fic in my concepts even longer, so here it is. Have some Natasha Romanov! :D hope you enjoy

Three weeks. It had been three weeks, and they were still stuck on that stupid, dead-end lead. Natasha could very well be patient, but it were days like these when she felt like choking the life out of the entirety of Hydra and just call it a day.  
For a moment, she let her thoughts wander, fantasizing about going up against Hydra in the same sort of way Steve had done so many years ago: with two fists and a lot of repressed issues. Okay, so, maybe it wasn’t considered very “healthy” to daydream about murder. Clint had pointed this out to her on more than one occasion. She knew. She also knew that Clint was a giant hypocrite, who thoroughly enjoyed firing pointy things at anything that annoyed him, including, but not limited to: paperwork, homophobes, anything that came between him and his first cup of coffee in the morning, purple chalk(she did not want to ask about it), and murderers.  
Natasha’s fingers were getting heavy from the icy cold wind. She could see her breath crystallize in front of her while she listened to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, partially to calm herself, but mostly out of habit. While it was cold, it didn’t feel uncomfortable to her.  
When Natasha arrived at the bar, she took a minute to collect herself, to redirect her thoughts to the task. She went in and boy, did that smell like a pound of microwaved death. And it looked like it, too. There was a group of older men slumped in front of the bar, all in various states of drunk. One bartender, an older male. There were some empty tables, two of which with, surprise, more drunk guys. In the back, there was a more private area, occupied for the most part by less drunk, more just stupid, men. It was easily cut off front the rest by a large door, practically invisible to untrained eyes.  
Natasha wasn’t hiding looking around the place while she slowly made her way to the bar.  
‘How can I help ya?’ The bartender asked, his voice reminded her vaguely of Bruce’s pirate impression, ‘You lost, or somethin’?’ Natasha smiled.  
‘Oh, me? No, no. I just, needed someplace to clear my mind a bit, if you don’t mind. Getting out of the house and all, you know?’ she easily forced a giggle over her lips before she continued, ‘Could I maybe have some water, or a coke if you have it, please?’ The bartender raised his eyebrows, but kept quiet while he grabbed a glass. ‘Thank you,’ She said, when he gave her a half-filled glass with coke. He grunted. The hospitality really left something to be desired, she thought grimly to herself.  
She walked over to the back and sat down in a booth, making sure to ignore her glass completely while putting her jacket down beside her. Now it was just a game of wait and see.  
‘What’s a nice lady like you, doing in a place like this?’ She looked up. As it turns out: “a game of wait and see” doesn’t even include waiting anymore these days. She gave her best amused-and-slightly-embarrassed laugh while the guy slid into her booth at the other side. She caught a glimpse of her drink, suspiciously full, browsing with bubbles, and turning faintly green. This must be her guy.  
‘Let me buy you a drink, some real drink. It’s a shame for such a beautiful lady to go unaccompanied, don’t you think?’ She shook her head and rolled her glass in her hand.  
‘I really shouldn’t…’ She said, and slowly took a sip, making sure not to swallow it. It was a risky gamble, but turned out to be worth it, because as soon as the glass hit her lips she saw another guy signing something to the bartender, who nodded.  
‘Oh, what? You’re playing hard to get, now?’ The guy at the other side of the booth said. And wow, she already hated this guy with a fiery passion, if only just for that question having past his lips. She heard the click of a door closing almost immediately after he asked the question, and spit the nasty “coke” in his face. In the same movement, she got two knives and pushed them through his hands, pinning them to the table. He screamed in pain.  
‘Oh, what? You’re playing hard to please, now?’ She said, keeping her voice tooth rotting sweet. She turned the knives simultaneously halfway. He screamed again, and his head shot back so fast it knocked against wall behind him, knocking him unconscious. One down.  
Some guys stepped forward, while other, slightly smarter guys dashed backwards. She continued on autopilot, almost muscle-memory. One guy got thrown into another, a gun, previously pointed at her, had now lost some bullets in some dickheads foot. It helped that, at some point during the whole twenty seconds(max) it had taken her to knock them all out, they’d taken to fight each other. She’d almost felt impressed at their complete lack of higher functioning brain cells. Almost. After all, she did live with Clint and Tony. In one building.  
She saw a shaky knife in the corner of her vision, and smiled.  
‘I was wondering where you went. I kind of needed you.’ She turned, very unwillingly, to face the guy who thought it was a good idea to go toe to toe with black widow, armed with a knife.  
‘I don’t know who you are, or what you do,’ He said, which was, really, a great thing to say. Inform your opponent of your lack of knowledge. What’s next? Give them your gun? God, these guys got more stupid by the hour. ‘-but I’m telling you, you don’t mess with my crew! We’ll find you! And- and you’ll regret it!’ Natasha briefly wondered if she could get away with slamming his head into a nearby wall and go looking for what she needed herself, but decided against it. It was way more fun like this, anyway.  
‘Yes.’ She answered, and paused to pointedly looked around her at the bodies on the floor, ‘I see. Very threatening.’  
The guy, in an act that showed the most self-preservation she’d seen of him all night, stepped back, vaguely towards the direction of the door. She walked over to him, deliberately slow. He froze.  
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ She said.  
‘Wh- Why not?’ He stammered. She looked into his eyes while she stepped into his personal space, and saw how his pupils blew up. He gulped. She took his hands, and in the blink of an eye, she had his wrists bound together on a loose piece of thread. She kneed his nuts and he doubled over, giving her plenty of time look around and find some place to tie him up. The conveniently placed hook on the ceiling did a great job, complete with a piece of rope, even. Natasha avoided thinking of why they’d have a hook, convenient for tying people up. She feared that, if she did, she’d lose every last bits of patience she had left after these weeks and she’d shoot him. She needed to stay calm. After some deep breaths, she looked up. She could do this.  
‘Now, Mike,’ She said, painfully casual, while she walked over to retrieve a glass of whiskey on one of the few, still standing tables. ‘You wanna talk ‘bout being a good, older brother, and not murdering people on subways?’ She asked. His head flew up and his expression became a chaotic mess of anger, frustration, guilt, and shame.  
‘I- no, but-How?’  
‘But I’m not here for that, actually.’ She continued, taking an experimental sip of her whiskey. If asked, she’d have argued it was for intimidation. Honestly though, she just really needed a drink.'No, you have far bigger problems.' She eyed the guy. He was very ugly. Not the “not-pretty” type of ugly. More a type of ugly that you can only achieve by being a truly horrible person. It was the type of ugly guy who threw poisoned meat on the ground for stray dogs, or the type of ugly person who despised everything they had, despite having, and hoarding, it all. It was the type that you knew wouldn’t tip well, if at all, and the type that could easily kick puppies as hobby because they'd think the sounds those poor animals would make is funny. It was the type of ugly person, who could never be pretty, how attractive they might be. This guy even came prepared with weird, smelly spots on his shirt and face.  
Truly remarkable, really, she thought, how much grossness could be packed into one single, repelling human being.  
Natasha pulled one of the knifes out of a hand, the hand of the guy she who had initially tried to hit on her. She let it play in her hand for a bit, the not-unconscious guy, Mike, was still watching her closely. Then, she inches towards him, pointing her knife at his stomach, only stopping when he squirmed back, in a lousy attempt to not get stabbed.  
‘Tell me, Mike.’ Her voice almost a purr, ‘What do you know about Hydra?’

 

‘How did you get this?’  
‘I have my ways.’  
'You know I need to fill in a report on how we got this information, right?'  
'Who says we have this information?'  
‘Natasha.’  
‘Phil.’  
Phil Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. On his desk lay a neat and simple list of places and street names.  
‘Okay. Fine.’ he sighed. To an outsider, there would be no sign of how hard the last few weeks had been on him, but Natasha could see the truth hidden in the deep lines of his face, ‘But next time you go to do- whatever you do, you take someone as back-up, alright?’ Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘No, I’m serious.' He continued 'You were gone for three hours, no-one knew where you were and you could have been seriously hurt.’  
‘Ahw,’ she allowed the side of her mouth kick up in a playful smirk, ‘you were worried about me.’ It was the closest she could manage to showing him how much she appreciated it. Coulson raised his eyebrows, not unlike the bartender had done earlier.  
‘Was this all, agent Romanov? Or have you things for me to be impossible to explain to fury.’  
‘What? The list of every active Hydra facility in west Russia? Yes, actually. That would be all, sir.’ She said, 'And you'll manage. Fury likes you.'  
‘Go.’ Phil said, not even hiding the affection in his expression. Some day, she hoped she could do that, too. Let people read her like that, even if it were just one person. ‘Go, before I change my mind and get you taken off-duty.’ She knew it was an empty threat. They both knew it.  
‘Thank you, sir.’ She stood up, and left. Some day, she would let someone in. At least partially. Maybe. Probably Clint.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy? I hope so, I really hope i did her character justice. she deserves that after everything


End file.
